


The Freevengers

by JeanJavert



Category: Free!, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:30:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanJavert/pseuds/JeanJavert
Summary: Freevengers assemble!





	1. The Soldier

He’ll never forget that moment, in the shallows. Time seemed to stretch and slow. The unknown assailant, who had been plaguing him and Falcon across the coast, had caught them in a chase down a busy tourist beach. When the sea spray had cleared, he was alone with the assassin, both knee-deep in the rising tide. The assassin’s mask had come off during the last round of blows.

 

He whispered a name.

 

The assassin raised his eyes and muddy sand dripped down his face.

 

_‘Who the hell is Sousuke?’_


	2. The Inventor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the naval base battle

Haru had shut himself up in his lab after the fight at the naval base and subsequent Makoto’s hospitalization.

 

_I should have been faster._

 

His fingers twitched over keys with frantic energy as his gazed intently at the display.

 

_I should have caught him as he fell._

 

The new suit would be stronger, faster, and most importantly, deliver a more lethal force than before. He would _not_ be caught off guard by his ‘old friend’ the Captain’s forces again.

 

_He is NOT my friend. It was a mistake to call him that._

 

A different display showed the rest of his team licking their various wounds throughout the Freevengers compound. If nothing else, they had the satisfaction of knowing Cap and his gang were doing the same, but in the cold comforts of prison. Out of the corner of his eye, the remains of the Jet Suit that Haru had torn off Makoto’s broken body lurked at the bottom of the stasis tank like a wounded orca.

 

He would find where Cap and the Soldier had escaped to, and he would dole out just desserts.


	3. The Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the empty throne room he let the illusion fall, delighting in pink hair and violet eyes once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, how many other characters can I use before I have to address the Civil War conflict?

The God of Lies uncrossed his legs, only to recross them with a different over the other.  Around him, the throne room was quiet and still.  There was not a soul to be seen in the empty hall where gods, elves, and exiles had mingled ages past.

 

_Perfect_ , thought the Lie Smith.  _I worked hard to sit at the top.  I wouldn’t have it any other way._

‘It’ was easier to maintain than expected.  With his brother taking every excuse to embroil himself in the affairs of Midgard, the splendor of the Nine Realms’ crown jewel, Asgard, was Kisumi’s in which to revel.  But his influence extended beyond the imperial paradise. A toppled republic here, a surprise bit of flatulence there, all the civilized worlds’ societies were the stage of his trickery.  His favorite targets were, of course, his brother and his stupid friends.

 

The self-satisfied grin slipped off Kisumi’s face, to be replaced by a scowl. Trivial human nonsense seemed to claim the God of Thunder’s attention more than mourning the death of his own (adopted) brother.  The good Captain and his allies threw themselves across the Midgardian continents in a never-ending quest to protect their realm.  Ah, they had some laughable name, what was it they called themselves?

 

_‘The Freevengers’_ supplied the part of his mind that remembered shameful defeat at the hand of said heroes, the same part that he tried to keep buried under layers of ego and levity.  The human woman had seemed so demure, so fixated on her literary pursuits, that his insinuation of less-than-tasteful modelling and her subsequent eruption into a towering monster of verdant rage had completely blindsided him.

 

Only from the pain of cramping muscles did Kisumi realize he was clenching the arms of the throne in a white-knuckled grip. If he looked closely, and without the golden light streaming through the windows from Asgard’s setting sun, the trickster might have seen a faint tinge of blue at the tips of his fingers before releasing his hold on the antique metal.  After clearing the throne room of the royal court an hour prior, Kisumi had allowed himself the indulgence of dropping his constant illusion to wander the hall and preen in front of any and all reflective surfaces.  More than once, he had started at the sudden appearance of another, just behind him or in the corner of his vision, only to laugh in relief upon recognizing his own pink hair and violet eyes in yet another reflection. But at present, the uncomfortable reminder that he did not _belong_ here had him throw up the illusion once more.  The Silvertongue turned to face the windows to the right of his seat, opposite the setting sun on his left.

 

King Sasabe, that infernal dotard, sneered back at him.  Stranding his adoptive father on Midgard was not as funny when Kisumi could not escape his face back on Asgard.  Still, he was the God of Tricks, and could appreciate the humor of the situation. Choosing to move away from anything that forced him to confront his... minor imperfections, he averted his eyes and fell back into a good mood.

 

The false king reached into a cleverly hidden pouch he kept beneath his robes at all times and pulled out a small, colored stone.  This particular curio he had lifted, with fingers even cleverer than anything else in his possession, from a visiting sorceress.  Its origin and exact powers were unknown, but Kisumi had discovered that, when prodded with his own seiðr, the stone would reveal the sights and sounds of the Freenvengers’ current misadventures within its colored depths.  Though he had only pocketed the bauble for its shiny appearance, the trickster had delighted at its surprising usefulness.  He didn’t _have_ to order the sorceress executed for trumped up charges of the attempted assassination of his royal person, but better safe than sorry.  More importantly, her screams of outrage and despair had provided entertainment over dinner.

 

He tittered at the fond memory and let slip a wisp of seiðr into the gem from his palm.  Like clouds pulling away to reveal a full moon, its murky center cast aside shadows to show another installment of some trivial quest _du jour_ pursued by these ‘Freevengers.’  Immediately recognizable in his garish outfit and shield, the captain was running across a grey beach with a flying follower in tow.  If he listened closely, he could hear the sound of waves crashing against the shore.  They were closing the gap between them and a dark figure heading towards a sheer cliff face at the end of the beach.  Rationalizing his excitement as the natural response to any event after days of boredom, the God of Lies held his breath as he peered harder at the scene.  The small images of humans engaged in combat, and then, just barely audible above the waves, an utterance:

 

_‘Who the hell is Sousuke?’_

Kisumi roared with laughter and closed his hand over the stone, ending the vision from across the cosmos.  It had been visible even in such tiny recesses how the captain’s shocked face had paled at those words.  Oh, witnessing this encounter on a Midgardian shore inside the mysterious gem was even more entertaining than the death of the sorceress from which he’d stolen it! He had no idea who this ‘Sousuke’ was, or why the captain and his companion strapped into a flying apparatus were so troubled to discover his identity, but the taller hero’s obvious heartbreak was unlike any sight he had seen before.

 

Wearing his father’s face and enjoying the drama of his brother’s friends, the Smith of Lies rested easy on his undeserved throne.  He juggled the mysterious gem in the air for a few turns before curiosity got the better of him and he held it up to his eye to see what other tragedy would befall the Freevengers.  As the images in the stone’s depths resolved, the trickster was reminded of a jaunt to this lesser realm he had taken centuries ago, and the words of a Midgardian poet with whom he had briefly interacted.

_Lord, what fools these mortals be!_

**Author's Note:**

> We'll see if this fic becomes a thing.


End file.
